


Apology Not Required

by Jestana



Category: National Treasure (Movies)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18597655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jestana/pseuds/Jestana
Summary: Patrick and Emily go their separate ways after they meet at a dig in Mexico, but something--or someone--brings them back together.





	Apology Not Required

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge from unicorn_catcher on LJ. She suggested I explain a quote from one of the deleted scenes for **Book of Secrets** : _"I'm so sorry I got you into this." "I believe the last time you said that to me, it was the night before our wedding."_ Nineteen pages later, I finally finished the bloody thing.

_"I'm so sorry I got you into this." "I believe the last time you said that to me, it was the night before our wedding."_

The first morning of her summer internship found nineteen-year-old Emily Appleton in her bathroom, heaving up the meager contents of her stomach. She was normally a light eater anyway and hadn't been very hungry of late as it was. Still feeling a little light-headed, she flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth out. Moving carefully, she returned to her room to get dressed. When she finally arrived downstairs for breakfast, both of her parents were seated in the breakfast nook, looking expectantly at her. Determined to pretend everything was normal, she mustered a smile, "Good morning, Mother, Father." 

"Emily." Jane Appleton's voice was firm, brooking no argument. "Come here." 

She reluctantly walked over to sit across from her parents. "Yes?" 

"How long have you been vomiting without telling us?" Harold asked the question, gray eyes stern as he gazed at his youngest daughter. 

She shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. "That depends on how long _you've_ known I've been throwing up." 

"Don't get smart with me young lady," her father warned her sententiously. "How long have you been having trouble with your stomach?" 

Emily shrugged again, still not looking at her father. She knew it drove him crazy. "A couple weeks, I think." 

"A couple weeks!?" That was her mother shrieking. "Why didn't you tell us?" 

She glared mutinously at her mother. "I knew you'd react this way." 

"Have you seen a doctor?" Jane demanded, brown eyes dark with worry. 

Emily shook her head. "Not yet. I thought it was just a bug that would go away." 

"But it hasn't." Her mother was wringing her hands. 

Harold rested his hand on his wife's shoulder. "The next words out of you had better be something along the lines of _I've made an appointment with the doctor for today_." 

"I've made an appointment with the doctor for tomorrow," Emily answered as sweetly as possible. 

Her parents looked sharply at their daughter. "That's not funny, Emily Jane Appleton." 

"It's not meant to be, Mother," she retorted with infuriating calm. "It was the best time they had available when I called." 

Jane looked pleadingly at her husband. "Harold." 

"Get your coat, Emily. You're going to the doctor _now_." Harold got to his feet, all but looming over his daughter. 

She jumped to her feet, gray eyes flashing with anger. "I start my internship today. I _can't_ go to the doctor right now!" 

"Your health is more important than that internship." Her father was unfazed by his daughter's glare. "Now get your coat." 

Emily stubbornly folded her arms across her chest, chin lifted defiantly. "No. I have an appointment tomorrow; I don't need to go today." 

A long silence ensued as father and daughter glared at each other. Finally, Jane reached up and touched her husband's arm. "On second thought, it can't be _that_ serious if Emily can fight with us about it." 

"Make up your mind, Jane!" Harold turned and glared at his wife now. 

She flinched, but didn't react otherwise to his outburst. "Let it go." 

"Fine!" He snatched his suit coat from the back of his chair. "I'm going to work, then." 

Mother and daughter remained silent until the door slammed shut behind Harold. "Thank you, Mother." 

"I'm going with you tomorrow," Jane warned her daughter. 

Wisely, Emily didn't object. Even she knew when it was time to compromise.

* * *

"Patrick." John's disembodied voice was accompanied by a knock on his son's bedroom door.

Looking up from his book with a sigh of annoyance, Patrick asked, "What is it, Dad?"

"You have a visitor," John explained. "He insists on talking with you."

Frowning, Patrick got up to open the door. "Who is it?"

"He says his name is Harold Appleton," his father replied, his face suggesting he wasn't sure if he believed it.

That caught Patrick's attention. "Appleton? You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." John sounded exasperated as he followed his son down the stairs. "I'm not going deaf, you know."

They entered the living room a few moments later. The man who stood up at their entrance was around John's height, in his early- to mid-40's, with receding dark brown hair and intent gray eyes that seemed to size Patrick up in an instant. "Patrick Henry Gates?"

"That's me, yes." Patrick nodded, guessing the man was Emily's father.

Appleton returned the nod and looked past the younger man to John. "If you could give us some privacy, Dr. Gates?"

"Patrick's my son," John objected, sounding indignant. "Whatever you have to say to him, you can say in front of me!"

Patrick turned to his father. "Dad, please? I'll tell you about it afterwards."

"You'd better not be in trouble." Giving his son a stern look, John turned and left the room, heading--presumably--to his study.

He never really figured out how he ended up on his stomach on the floor, right arm pulled up behind his back, Harold Appleton's full weight holding him down. "Hey! What gives?"

"My daughter is pregnant and she said you're the father," Appleton's voice was quiet and dangerous. "You'd better do right by her, or no one will be able to find _you_."

Patrick strained to glance over his shoulder at the older man, but couldn't quite manage it. "Emily is pregnant?"

"Yes, and your next words had better be a promise to marry her so the baby won't be a bastard." The words were practically growled.

He winced as Appleton pulled his arm tighter against his back. They weren't ready for marriage! Emily was still in school! He'd just finished _his_ degree! Though, Emily was really the only woman he could imagine being with these days. None of the other women he'd met since that fateful dig in Mexico had caught his attention the way Emily had. Swallowing against the pain in his arm, he nodded, "Yes, I'll marry Em. I won't let my child be called a bastard."

"Good." The weight on his back was suddenly gone and Appleton helped Patrick to his feet. "I'll call tomorrow to arrange for all of us to meet finalize the details. Good night."

Patrick's mouth was still opening to say 'good night' when the door closed behind Appleton. He shook his head with a groan. What was his father going to say?

* * *

"You did what!?" Emily stared at her father, absolutely furious. "How could you!? You have no right to make arrangements for my future behind my back!"

Harold remained calm in the face of his daughter's fury. "You are carrying my grandchild, Emily. I have every right to make arrangements for his future."

"Arrangements that affect _my_ life!" she shot back, poking a finger at his chest. "What about my education? I can't go to school, raise a baby, _and_ deal with a husband!"

Her father shrugged nonchalantly. "So give up college. You don't really need it."

"Don't need it!?" Emily repeated, insulted. "Of course I need it!"

Calm gray eyes bore into furious gray ones. "No, you don't. Not to raise your child."

"I refuse to give up my career just because I got pregnant," she folded her arms across her chest, still glaring at her father.

Finally, the calm demeanor cracked, Harold's eyes narrowing dangerously. "You'd better not be referring to abortion."

"What other option do I have?" Emily asked, her arms unconsciously moving down to cover her stomach. "Adoption?"

Jane, who'd been listening quietly to the altercation, finally interjected herself. "No! You're not going to let some strangers raise that child."

"Who else will if not Patrick and I?" she demanded, her arms tight across her stomach.

Her parents exchanged a glance. At a nod from Harold, Jane answered, "We will if you won't."

"I don't know what to do." Emily glanced down, feeling very uncertain as she contemplated giving up the child growing inside of her.

She looked up in surprise when she felt hands on her shoulders. Her mother gazed back at her quietly. "Think about it, Emily. Don't decide just yet."

"All right." Slowly, Emily nodded. She'd think carefully before she made her decision. And she needed to talk to Patrick. They had to decide together.

* * *

"What did Mr. Appleton want with you?" John asked his son when Patrick quietly entered the study and sat down on the couch.

Slowly, Patrick looked up, wondering how his father was going to react. "Um, you know the girl I told you about meeting on the dig in Mexico?"

"Yes, her name was Emily, wasn't it?" John frowned, getting up to join his son on the couch. "What about her?"

He swallowed nervously. "Mr. Appleton is her father."

"And?" He looked expectantly over his glasses at his son.

Flushing, Patrick looked away. "She, um-- That is, we--"

"Oh, God, you didn't!" John jumped to his feet, staring incredulously at his son.

Patrick peeked up at his father. "If you mean sex, we did."

"Patrick!" His father covered his face with his hand. "I warned you!"

His son rolled his eyes and got to his feet to confront his father, taller than him by several inches. "I know, Dad! I didn't exactly _plan_ on it happening, but it did and now she's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" John repeated, staring at his son. "Of all the--!"

Sighing gustily, Patrick stalked away, over to the display of photos, staring at the generations of Gates men represented in them. "Mr. Appleton wants me to marry her so the baby won't be a bastard."

"That's not a good enough reason to marry," his father objected, annoyed. "You and Emily should at least care for each other and get along."

Patrick smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face his father. "Well, if arguing, bickering, and then having sex counts, we're good."

"I hope you didn't agree just yet," John retorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This requires discussion."

"Um, well, I sort of already...did," Patrick admitted. At his father's look, he told him, "He had me pinned on the floor and wasn't going to let me up until I said yes!"

John sighed and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Will he be coming back?"

"He said he would call tomorrow to arrange for all of us to meet," Patrick told him.

His father nodded thoughtfully. "It wasn't anything binding, so you can still get out of it if you want to."

"What?" Patrick stared at his father. "I don't _want_ to get out of it!"

John gave his son a knowing look. "You may think otherwise once you've had a chance to think rationally about this."

Throwing up his hands, Patrick stormed out of the study. He needed to talk to Emily.

* * *

A few days later found Emily sitting at one end of the sofa in the living room with Patrick at the other end, listening as her parents argued with his dad in Harold's study. After a few moments of silence, Patrick asked, "How did we lose control of our lives?"

"This is ridiculous." Emily got to her feet, pacing the room, very aware of the fact that Patrick was watching her. "This situation isn't about _them_. It's about _us_." She turned to face him, meeting his eyes across the room. " _We_ need to decide what _we're_ going to do and tell them when they finally come out to tell us what they've decided."

He nodded, and then tilted his head. "All right, so what _are_ we going to do?"

She perched on the sofa again, facing him this time. She clasped her hands together in her lap, trying not to show how nervous she was. "You _can_ walk away, you know."

"I don't _want_ to walk away, though," Patrick answered gently, covering her hands with his. "It took _both_ of us to get you pregnant. _Both_ of us should raise our child."

Emily looked up at him, surprised by his answer. Her studies of history had led her to believe that most men would have gladly avoided taking responsibility for their actions. "You really want to, Patrick?"

"Yes, I do, Emily." After a moment of hesitation, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, blue eyes gazing into her gray ones. "Though I'd rather not be pushed into marrying you, I don't think I could choose a better woman than you."

She blinked rapidly, determinedly pushing back the tears that his tender words had caused. It was the pregnancy that was making her emotional, that's all. "You never know. You might meet someone after we marry, and then you'd regret it, wishing you hadn't married me after all."

"Never, Em," Patrick murmured, a tender light in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat or two. "You can be exasperating and annoying, but I never felt more alive and happy with my life than when I was with you." He laughed softly when she tried to pull away from him, catching her hands with his. "That said, I really _do_ want to marry you, but I won't force you. It's up to you whether we go through this or not."

Emily could only stare at him. Though she, too, had found Patrick irritating and vexing at times during the dig in Mexico, what came to mind were the more pleasant experiences they'd shared, and there were a surprising number, considering how short a time period that had been. Emily hadn't realized until that moment just how much she'd missed having Patrick in her life. She'd simply ignored that empty feeling, but now it was gone. Smiling softly, she slowly nodded, "Yes, Patrick."

"Yes?" he repeated, surprise registering briefly on his face before it was replaced by delight. "Yes!"

Her laughter at his reaction was cut short when his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss. She melted into it with a moan of pleasure and longing, wrapping her arms around him to pull him even closer. Groaning, he tightened his arms around her, sliding one hand under her blouse. She moaned and arched her back, burying one hand in his sandy brown hair. Unfortunately, their parents chose that moment to emerge from the study to make their decision known.

"Patrick! Emily!" Jane sounded scandalized.

"Get your hands off her!" Harold covered the distance to the sofa in only a few strides, physically yanking Patrick off of his daughter.

Much to everyone's surprise, John followed Harold over and soon had him pinned on the floor, not even breathing hard. "You have every right to be angry with my son, but you do _not_ have the right to assault him."

"Get off me!" Harold was incensed, thrashing under John's hold.

Emily leaned over to whisper, "Father served in the Marines."

"Dad served in the Navy," Patrick whispered back.

John remained obdurate. "Do you swear not to lay your hands on Patrick?"

"I swear, I won't." The words were more of a growl.

After a few moments, John let the other man get to his feet. Gray eyes flashed murderously as he looked from son to father and back again. "Just what did you think you were doing to my daughter?"

"Kissing her, Sir," Patrick retorted, lifting his chin as he gazed defiantly at his future father-in-law, on his feet now. "She _is_ my fiancée, after all."

Harold glared darkly at the young man. "According to whom?"

"According to _me_ ," Emily shot back at her father, jaw set stubbornly. "We're getting married. With or without your permission."

* * *

A few hours later, the phone rang and Patrick leapt to answer it. "Hello?"

"P-Patrick?" the voice was unusually soft and tremulous, but he'd know it anywhere: Emily. "Did I dial the right number?"

He nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Yes, it's Patrick. What's wrong, Em?"

"It's F-father," she replied, sounding as if she was fighting back tears. "He-- he told me that I had to l-leave if I was going to m-marry you. I didn't know w-who else to call."

Patrick jumped to his feet. "Stay right where you are, I'll come get you."

"How can you when you d-don't know where I am?" Except for that one stutter, Emily sounded more like her old self and he couldn't hold back a smile.

He decided it was best not to fight with her at the moment. She was too emotionally fragile. "Tell me and I will come get you."

Emily told him where he could find her. "Hurry, please. I don't like this area."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, just stay put," Patrick assured her. After he hung up the phone, he headed straight for the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be right back, Dad!"

Before John could muster a reply, the door slammed shut behind his son. He climbed into his 1959 Rambler American and drove right to where Emily had said she was. When all he found there was an empty pay phone, Patrick started to panic. Had something happened to her? He parked the car and climbed out, intending to walk over and examine the pay phone. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned, falling into a defensive stance he'd learned during his own time in the Navy. "Pat?"

"Em, thank goodness!" He smiled in relief when she emerged from the shadows near the phone, a suitcase bumping against her leg. "I was worried when I didn't see you right away!"

She glanced skeptically at the car. "I thought it'd be best to hide until I saw who was driving such a rattle-trap of a car."

"Rattle-trap?" he repeated, offended on behalf of his car. "I can assure you that she's in perfectly pristine condition!"

Emily rolled her eyes and moved closer to him. "Just promise me you'll get a new car before our baby is born? I don't want to rely on _that_ to get us to the hospital in the middle of winter."

"Our child _will_ be born in a hospital, I promise you," Patrick told her, unlocking and opening the passenger-side door with some difficulty.

She didn't say a word in reply, simply sliding inside the car with a moue of distaste. Once he'd climbed behind the wheel and started the car after jiggling the keys in the ignition, Emily asked quietly, "Where are we going?"

"Home," he answered simply, checking that the street was clear before pulling out and heading back the way he'd come. "You'll be living there anyway after we're married; might as well start now."

Patrick saw her nod out of the corner of his eye, bowing her head so a fall of pale gold hair hid her face from him. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable with the situation, he simply drove straight home. He helped Emily from the car and insisted on carrying her suitcase inside. John stood in the front hall, looking extremely upset. "Patrick Henry Gates--"

"Hello, Dr. Gates," Emily greeted her future father-in-law with a wan smile. "Please forgive my intrusion. Your son insisted."

John glanced sharply at Patrick, who shook his head slightly, hoping his father understood the message that now was not a good time to discuss this. Nodding, he returned his attention to his future daughter-in-law. "There's nothing to forgive, my dear. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you, I'm rather tired." She gripped her purse tightly in both hands.

John watched silently as Patrick took her arm gently. "This way, Em."

Emily allowed herself to be led up the stairs to Patrick's room, sitting down on the bed while he set her suitcase down beside the dresser. She could unpack tomorrow. When he sat down beside her, she turned and practically burrowed into his arms, gripping his shirt tightly with both hands. With some surprise, he realized that she was crying. Emily Appleton was the last woman he'd expect to cry. She was too strong, too stubborn, and too confident to cry. Yet, here she was, shaking in his arms as her tears dampened his shirt.

Unable to think of anything else to do, he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back soothingly. "It's going to be okay. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

It took a few minutes, but Emily eventually stopped crying, wiping the last of her tears away. Patrick pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her. She accepted it and wiped her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I made a mess of your shirt."

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, not caring about his shirt. "Why don't you lay down and rest? I doubt this stress will be good for the baby."

"What about your father?" Emily glanced at the closed bedroom door. "He didn't look too pleased with you."

"I'll handle him," he informed her with more confidence than he felt. "You just rest, okay?"

Looking doubtful, she nevertheless laid down on the bed, unconsciously sighing as her muscles relaxed. He pulled the covers over her and leaned down to kiss her forehead before leaving to talk to his father. John was pacing the downstairs hall and spun to face his son. "What's going on, Patrick?"

"Emily's father kicked her out for insisting on marrying me," Patrick explained bluntly. "She doesn't really have anywhere else to go."

John stared at his son, astounded. "Wait, Harold was the one who wanted you two to get married in the first place!"

"I know, and now he's changed his mind so completely that he's rejected Em instead of see her marry me," Patrick replied, trying to ignore how much it stung that Harold Appleton didn't think he was good enough for Emily.

Shaking his head, John pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what are we going to do now?"

"Emily's going to live here with us," he reminded his father of the deal they'd made. "We'll get married as soon as we can and I'll look for a place for the two of us."

After a moment's thought, John nodded. "Where-- You know what, I'm not even going to bother asking. Good night, Patrick."

"Good night, Dad." He watched as his father climbed up the stairs to the master bedroom, pretty sure he knew what John had decided not to ask.

Going back up the stairs himself, Patrick slipped into his room. Emily was still curled up on the bed, cuddling a pillow to her now. Moving as carefully and quietly as he could, Patrick changed into pajamas and slipped under the covers. The moment she sensed his presence, Emily rolled over and draped her arm across his waist, cuddling close to him. He smiled sadly to himself and wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders, pulling her close. "Good night, Em."

"Mmm, Pat," she sighed and relaxed even more, as if his mere presence made her feel secure. He rather liked that idea and fell asleep smiling.

* * *

Upon waking the following morning and seeing that she wasn't in her room at home, Emily remembered what had happened the night before. She closed her eyes as her father's voice reverberated in her head: _"If you insist on marrying into a family that wastes all of its money on a ridiculous legend of lost treasure, then you can leave now and never come back."_

She'd argued with him, of course, maintained that it wouldn't be like that, but Harold Appleton had been implacable, telling her to pack her things. Jane had tried to reason with him, but her husband had been adamant. So, Emily had left, storming out of the house in high dudgeon to hide the sting of her father's rejection. As much as it had galled her to do it, she'd called Patrick because she'd had no other recourse. Her stomach chose that moment to remind her that it didn't like mornings anymore and she shook Patrick's shoulder quickly. "Patrick! Wake up!"

"What?" He sat up quickly, looking at her with bleary eyes. "Em? What's wrong?"

"Bathroom." She kept her sentences as short as possible, unsure how long she could keep the contents of her stomach _in_ her stomach. "Now."

He stared blankly at her for a few moments before he understood and scrambled from the bed, helping her up in turn. He led her out of the bedroom and a short distance down the hall, where he opened the door to a bathroom. Uncaring of the fact that Patrick was right there, she fell to her knees in front of the toilet not a moment too soon. She was dimly aware of Patrick pulling her hair back from her face as she retched, but she was too miserable to care very much. When her stomach seemed to have settled down, she sat back on her heels, only vaguely surprised to realize she was leaning back against Patrick's legs. "All right, Em?"

"I will be." She winced inwardly at the hoarseness of her voice. She would be very glad when the morning sickness finally passed. Something cool nudged her shoulder and she looked up to find a glass of water waiting for her. "Thanks."

She took the water and rinsed her mouth out before drinking deeply. As he took the empty cup and set it on the counter, Patrick asked her, "Can you eat something or is your stomach too queasy still?"

"Eggs and toast and will be fine," Emily replied, flushing the toilet and getting to her feet. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing. They were what she'd been wearing the day before. "Do I have time to change?"

He nodded, looking sheepish as he stepped back to let her out of the bathroom. "Yes, of course. Your suitcase is in my room."

" _Your_ room?" she repeated, barely managing a proper glare as she moved past him into the hallway. "Awfully presumptuous of you."

Patrick followed her down the hall, proceeding over to the dresser in his room. "It seemed like the best idea at the time."

" _Seemed_ being the operative word in this case," she retorted without much heat. She was still too drained to do more than grouse and grumble.

He seemed to realize this as well, because Patrick simply finished retrieving a change of clothes and turned to her. "The room is yours."

With that, he left, the door shutting firmly behind him. Wondering why she felt worse now, Emily opened her suitcase to pull out a change of clothes and her bag of toiletries. "At least I remembered my toothbrush."

* * *

Patrick was still shaking his head when he headed downstairs to make breakfast for himself and Emily. His father stood at the counter, pouring two cups of coffee. Remembering how angry John had been when he went to bed, Patrick greeted him a little hesitantly. "Morning."

"Good morning, Patrick." John sounded pleasant as he offered his son one of the cups. "Is Emily okay? I heard her throwing up."

More than a little puzzled by this apparent change in attitude from his father, Patrick accepted the coffee and took a sip. "She's fine. I think it's just that morning sickness, or whatever."

"I thought so. Your mother hated that part of being pregnant." John smiled sympathetically, watching as his son pulled out ingredients for breakfast. "What _I_ hated was being sent out for food in the middle of the night."

He glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye as he scrambled a couple eggs. "Are you trying to tell me something, Dad?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry about my anger last night." John briefly rested his hand on Patrick's shoulder. "I had no right to judge you and Emily."

Patrick paused just as he was about to add cheese to the eggs in the pan, staring at his father. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that your mother would probably have slapped me silly for my anger." John gave a crooked smile. " _Her_ father wasn't real thrilled with _me_ , either."

He carefully set the cheese down on the counter before he dropped it, staring at his father once more. "You slept with Mom before you two were married?"

"And she was pregnant at the time we were married, yes," John confirmed with a nod.

"I was born a couple years after you two were married," Patrick reminded him, picking up the cheese and beginning to shred it over the pan. "And I have no siblings."

After a moment of silence, John explained in a quiet voice, "That's because your sister, Sarah Boyleston Gates, was stillborn. We were both devastated, but your mother more so."

"I'm sorry." Patrick set the cheese down to pat his father's shoulder awkwardly. "I didn't know."

John shook his head, clearing his throat. "We were happy enough with you that we decided not to tell you."

"I think I understand why, but I have a question." He turned off the stove and scooped the eggs onto a plate. "Why did you stay married to Mom after Sarah died? I'm not complaining that you did because I wouldn't be here if you hadn't. I'm just curious."

His father rested his hands on Patrick's shoulders, waiting until his blue eyes came up to meet John's. "I stay married to her because I loved her. Yes, the circumstances of our marriage were questionable, but it would have come about eventually. Understand?"

"Yes, I do." He smiled, reaching up to squeeze his father's hands. "That's how I feel about Em and I."

John nodded, releasing his son. "Good. I have no objections to you marrying her."

"Thank you, Dad."

* * *

"Patrick, can we talk in private?" Emily requested that evening after dinner.

He nodded and led her upstairs to his room. "Sorry, I don't have anywhere else for us to talk except the attic and that's too dusty anyway."

"Here is fine," she assured him, perching on the edge of the bed. _For now, anyway..._

Patrick turned his desk chair around and sat in that. "Okay, what did you want to talk about?"

"What, exactly will be the sleeping arrangements while I'm here?" Emily asked outright, deciding there was no point in beating around the bush. "Will I be sharing with you or will I have my own room?"

He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. "Well, after we're married, we'll be sharing anyway, so I thought it'd be kind of silly for you to use a guest room for the time before our wedding."

"Won't your dad disapprove?" she inquired incredulously. "He didn't seem too happy to see me last night." Though, he _had_ been nicer to her since she'd come down for breakfast.

Patrick shrugged, glancing away briefly. "Dad realized that he has no right to be angry with us and approves of us getting married."

"No right?" Emily repeated, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"The circumstances of his marriage to Mom were quite similar," he explained, meeting her eyes with the crooked little grin that she already found adorable. "They were quite happy together and I hope that we have just such a future ahead of us."

She gave him a sardonic look, hiding how much his words moved her. "That's rather idealistic of you. Do you intend to for me to stay in the kitchen and cook all day, too? Perhaps have a few more children while I'm at it?"

"Of course not!" Patrick responded hastily, getting up from the chair and sitting down beside her on the bed. "For one, you wouldn't stay there, and for two, you wouldn't be the firecracker I fell for in Mexico if you _did_."

Emily raised an eyebrow at him. "Firecracker?"

"Yes, feisty, fiery, and irresistible." He grinned, reaching up to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

It took great restraint on her part to keep from leaning into that light touch. "I _suppose_ I can take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." Patrick leaned in close, as if to kiss her. At the last moment, he turned his head and kissed her other cheek, just barely brushing his lips against the skin.

A sound of frustration escaped her and she caught his face between her small hands before he could pull back. "If you don't kiss me now, I will go sleep in the guest room."

"Your wish is my command." Smiling, Patrick leaned in to kiss Emily properly.

Moaning deep in her throat, she slid her arms around his neck, physically pulling herself closer to him. He slid his free arm around her waist to help pull her closer. She gasped against his lips as the action pressed her ample bosom into his chest, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. "Pat..."

"Em..." he moaned her name as his lips left hers to blaze a trail along her jaw and down her throat. "If you don't want to do this, tell me now while I can still stop myself.

Gasping for breath, Emily lay down on the bed and pulled Patrick down to join her, even as her small, nimble hands unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans. "If you stop now, I will never forgive you."

"We can't have that." He began unbuttoning her blouse, pressing kisses to her skin as each undone button revealed more.

She could only moan, combing her fingers through his hair, her mind growing hazy with desire at the sensations Patrick's touch sent through her body. "Oooh, Pat, yes..."

They weren't even completely naked, but it'd been too long for both of them and she wanted him inside her now! While she pushed his jeans and underwear down past his hips, he pushed her skirt up to her waist and he was finally inside her and she wrapped her shapely legs around him, clinging to him. It was messy and hurried, but she didn't care; she needed this. They reached their completion almost at the same time, holding tight to each other as they shuddered through the aftershocks together. His hand was shaking as he cupped her cheek once again, gazing at her with naked adoration in his eyes. "Oh, Em."

"I know, Pat." She smiled softly, turning her head to kiss his palm.

"After you, no woman can compare," he told her softly, leaning down to kiss her again.

She returned the kiss passionately, already slipping her hands between them to begin unbuttoning his shirt. They had a lot of time to make up for!

* * *

Several weeks later, Patrick tried not to listen as Emily talked to her mother on the phone. "No, I understand, Mother. It's just the way Father is... No, don't. I don't want you to be in trouble with him, too. Just you will be fine... Yes, I'm sure... Thank you... See you tomorrow... I love you, too." She hung up the phone with a sigh, briefly covering her eyes with one hand.

Patrick got up and slipped his arms around Emily's waist from behind, kissing the spot behind her ear. He'd learned that saying anything at moments like this only got his fiancée's hackles up. Instead, he simply held her and offered her the comfort of his presence. She sighed and relaxed back against him. When she did that, he asked softly, "She'll be there?"

"Yes. Mother approves at least," Emily's voice was bitter as she rested her hands over his where they covered the slight swell of her stomach. He'd been delighted to discover it one morning and couldn't seem to keep his hands away from it, awed by the knowledge that _their_ child was growing there.

"Maybe your father will come around eventually," he murmured carefully, swaying gently with her in his arms.

Emily shrugged and turned around, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest, right over his heart. "I never wanted him to 'give me away' to begin with. The only one who can give me away is me and I choose you. If he doesn't like it, he can go hang."

"He's your father, Em," Patrick reminded her gently. "Please don't be so quick to discount him."

She pulled away from him, looking up at him suspiciously. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"I was angry with my mother for years before she died," he explained softly, gently smoothing her pale blonde curls back from her face. "She never liked the idea of me enlisting right after high school and she felt I was wasting my life to pursue the treasure. I thought she just didn't want me to grow up and leave." He sighed quietly. "I think what she really worried about was the idea that I wouldn't find someone special to share my life." He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, something that always amused her. She rewarded him with a small smile. "We reconciled before she died, but part of me will always regret those angry years."

Emily sighed and leaned against him. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Just don't forget it." Patrick kissed the top of her head. Very softly, he added. "I'm sorry."

She pulled back again, looking up at him incredulously. "For what?"

"For getting you into this mess," he explained. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be at home with your parents, facing an uncomplicated future."

Emily pulled out of his arms completely, planting her hands on her hips indignantly. "Patrick Henry Gates, you are an idiot."

With that, she stormed out of their room and down the hall to the guest room, slamming the door shut behind her. "Well, damn."

John met him out in the hallway. "What'd you do _this_ time, Patrick?"

"Why do you assume it's _my_ fault?" he demanded, annoyed because it hit a little too close to home.

"Because it was Emily who slammed the door," his father retorted, amusement glinting in his blue eyes.

"I didn't do anything," Patrick answered defensively. "I just apologized for getting her into this mess in the first place."

John shook his head in fond exasperation. "That's the problem right there: you apologized."

"You're saying I shouldn't have apologized for getting her pregnant and causing this rift with her father because we're getting married tomorrow," he demanded of his father, getting very annoyed now. He couldn't do anything right!

His father shook his head again, this time in negation. "Patrick, she wouldn't be here if she didn't _want_ to be here. That she chose you over her father indicates that there's no need for you to apologize. She made her choice, don't cheapen it."

"So what should I do now?" Patrick felt very sheepish now, wishing he could take back what he'd said to Emily.

John smirked. "Apologize for apologizing."

* * *

Her arms folded protectively across the bump of her stomach, Emily stared unseeingly out the window, trying not to think about what was going to happen the next day. Until recently, she'd thought marriage was men's way of keeping women from reaching their full potential. As a teenager, she'd promised herself that she would _never_ marry, _never_ give in to society's demands. Yet, here she was, facing her wedding the next day and she was _happy_ about it! Aside from Patrick being enough of an idiot to apologize. Really! _He_ had never demanded that they get married. He'd liked the idea, yes, but he'd said he wouldn't force her into it. That was part of the reason she'd said yes. She'd been given a choice and she'd said yes because she'd known Patrick would always treat her as an equal. Sure, he had some old-fashioned ideas about chivalry and protecting her, but he only did that because he cared about her and wanted to see her safe. She'd liked that about him and, yes, he was very handsome and the sex was damn good, too.

A knock on the door was a welcome distraction from her thoughts. She turned from the window, calling out, "Come in!"

"You're not going to bite my head off, are you, Em?" Patrick called through the door.

"Come in and find out if you dare," she called back, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

The door opened and Patrick slowly entered, holding a plate with celery sticks on it, each one filled with peanut butter. Emily hid a pleased smile at the sight. Celery and peanut butter was her latest craving. He closed the door behind him and stood for a few moments, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. She remained by the window, remaining silent, waiting for him to speak first. "I, uh, want to apologize for apologizing."

"Is that your idea or John's?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. More than once since she'd moved in, John Adams Gates had had to serve as mediator between Emily and Patrick.

He smiled sheepishly, taking a few steps towards her, still holding the plate. "Well, the apologizing is Dad's idea, but the celery and peanut butter is mine."

She gazed steadily at him for several moments, trying to gauge the sincerity of his apology. He returned her gaze just as steadily, blue eyes calm. Finally, she closed the distance between them and plucked one of the celery sticks from the plate, taking a bite. A relieved smile appeared on Patrick's face and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Emily smiled and cupped his cheek with one hand. "You're forgiven this time, Pat, but be careful of what you apologize for in the future."

"I will, Em." He kissed her mouth this time, licking his lips when he lifted his head. "Mmm, peanut butter."

Laughing, she stretched up to kiss him again, cupping his face between both hands this time. "You're lucky I love you so much."

"I love you, too." He grinned and his kiss was deeper this time, making her moan.

"Maybe we should continue this discussion in our room?" she suggested when the kiss finally ended. Nodding, Patrick offered her the plate, which Emily took, puzzled. She gasped when he scooped her up into his arms, somehow holding on to the plate of celery even as she slipped one arm around his neck. "Patrick! What are you doing?"

He grinned as he carried her out of the guest room and down the hall to their room. "Practicing for our honeymoon."

"You silly man." She kissed the tip of his nose and ate another celery stick as they entered their bedroom and he nudged the door shut behind them.

Smiling, Patrick set her on her feet by the bed, carefully taking the plate and setting it on the bedside table. " _Your_ silly man, though."

"All mine," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing close to him. "Mine, mine, mine."

His eyes darkening with hunger, he lowered his head to hers for a passionate kiss that she returned with matched passion.

* * *

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the pastor announced the next day. "You may--" He never had a chance to finish because Emily had thrown herself at Patrick, kissing him deeply. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, holding Emily tight. When they finally parted, their wedding guests were applauding and cheering. Patrick grinned broadly as they turned to face the guests, arm-in-arm. "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Henry Gates."

As the Wedding March played, Patrick and Emily walked back down the aisle. At the very back of the chapel, Emily's father waited for them, looking very sheepish, but very proud. After a moment of shock, Emily glanced up at her husband. "Pat?"

"I wasn't sure he'd come, but I hoped he would," Patrick explained in a low voice.

Harold approached them and hesitantly opened his arms to Emily, his words coming out haltingly, as if he found it difficult to say them, but was determined to get them out. "I'm sorry, Emily. I just wanted what was best for you."

"Remember what I told you last night," Patrick whispered in her ear.

After several moments, Emily released her husband's arm to step forward and into her father's arms. "Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, Emily," Harold murmured, returning the hug.

When Emily stepped back, Patrick reclaimed her arm and they continued on together. As far as either of them cared, they were together forever.


End file.
